


The Good I come Home To

by Gecko_Bat



Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxious Leon, F/M, Leon is an angsty boy for the first part, Leon just needs some love, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, smut at the end
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-15
Updated: 2019-09-15
Packaged: 2020-10-19 06:03:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20652392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gecko_Bat/pseuds/Gecko_Bat
Summary: Leon has kept it very casual with you for months, seemingly oblivious of the growing feelings you harbour. You have no idea just how badly it hurts him to leave you every time until he tries to cut you out of his life completely. You have other ideas. You just have to persuade Leon they're the right ones.





	1. The Day He Shattered

Leon S. Kennedy was a complicated man in many respects, but it was easy to unravel all those complex layers if you started looking at his core values, his sense of purpose. To serve, to protect. Leon was built to be the bodyguard of humanity, a first line of defence between unimaginable horror and the things he loved. Every experience had molded him into this hard shell of a man, so far from the one people used to know. It had been interesting, really, to see an old friend from the Police Academy approach him and see just how different they had turned out. They both had the eyes of experience anybody in the force acquired over time, but Leon’s were sterner, like unbreakable stone as opposed to ice you could chip away at and eventually shatter. This old friend of his had a small-town job and apple pie life. He had the white picket fence and the wife who kissed him when he came home to freshly made dinner. His children were doing well at school.

Leon had listened like his life was a whole other world away. It was visible in his eyes, though he carefully kept it off his face, that the comparison between each man actually _disturbed _him. You hadn’t meant to see of course. It was pure coincidence you’d happened to be in the supermarket, walking down that exact same aisle. His old friend had hit the barricade you so often hit when you asked. You’d stopped questioning it after a few months of back and forth and the looming threat of losing him became a dark and unbearable burden.

_“So er, heard about the huge explosion at Raccoon. Where’d they place you after that?_”

“_Nowhere. I work for the government now.” _

_“Oh damn. FBI?” _

_“Something like that.” _

His job was the complicated topic. Classified and bad enough to put a certain brand of darkness behind his eyes when you asked, it was best left untouched by your hands because it was hidden beneath the many layers of the man you’d only ever been allowed to scratch the surface of – literally and figuratively. Beyond his core values, the simplicity of Leon S. Kennedy lay in his needs. He was a flesh and blood man after all. He was guaranteed to need to eat, to do laundry, to shower, to relieve himself. These simple needs were what made him somewhat predictable to you. On his best days, when he text you days or hours before, you were almost guaranteed to be wined and dined. Okay so the wine and dine option was sometimes more like beer and take-out pizza but it was always paid for by him if you bought the alcohol.

When he was feeling a little less than okay, you’d get no outright statement of his desire to see you, but he’d hedge around the topic and wait for you to ask him, like he was afraid to be a nuisance. You’d only get this awkward and prompting behaviour from him an hour or two before he showed up which left you little time to prepare, but a quick shower was always on the cards. In his worst moments, he’d give no warning and simply show up at your house with smouldering eyes that demanded your attention and everything else you had to give him. God help you, you always gave him everything. As simple as his needs were, as his feelings on the matter appeared, yours were much more complicated. Leon S. Kennedy had made it clear from the start when he met you at the bar that fateful night, all chiselled jaw and playful eyes, that nothing serious was to come of this.

It had progressed to a proper agreement when you both seemed to just keep running into each other. You were free to date, if you so pleased, and he’d stop showing up. He’d be gone like dust in the wind, untraceable and impossible to bring back. You didn’t want that. Until the day either of you became tied down you had agreed you were exclusive. You sated each other only. It was hard to keep to that promise all the time when he was away for long periods, but you remained true to your word anyway, and that was how it had stayed for a solid eight months. Leon came back to a bed you kept free just for him and left in the morning like it was no more than a pit-stop on a long and winding road.

You suspected he wasn’t proud of it. You thought sometimes you could see something softer in his eyes, something that made you think he wished for something more than he was already giving you. There were moments his eyes lingered when he said goodbye, times his hands stayed on you a little longer than they usually did. On rare occasions, when he was just a bit too drunk after what you guessed was a bad job, you let him sleep it off with his arms around you and listened to the whimpers in his sleep with an aching heart. Leon consistently let you have his body, gave you the briefest glimpses at the big heart he held so carefully hidden away, but never once did he let you into his mind. As much as you loved being with him, you had never truly been with him at all. You’d never truly connected with him beyond anything physical. It pained you to know you never would. You cared for him too much. You saw the deep pain he carried with him everywhere, and you’d never be able to alleviate that load because he wouldn’t let you.

You had to pause the TV to be sure you’d actually heard anything at all, but when you heard the noise again it was stronger, bolder. Knocking. Glancing at the clock, you turned the TV off with a frown. There weren’t many people who would come knocking at this late hour, and you didn’t know if your heart was in it tonight to let him in when he would forever keep you out. As if on cue, when you opened the door to a dripping wet Leon, thunder rumbled and rattled the open window in the corridor of your apartment block. A small puddle of water had formed on the windowsill, dripping in as the harsh rain battered the glass. Leaving your door propped with the door stop you kept nearby for moments like these, you crossed to the window to close it and lock out the weather. You felt sullen enough without the storm clouds invading your house.

“Leon if you’re here to drink that’s okay but I’m not really up for-“ you cut yourself off, uncertain all of a sudden as to what it was he was here for. His needs were always so simple, the looks and actions associated with them something you had come to learn to recognise without much conscious thought. This was entirely new. Those piercing blue eyes were sullen, fighting between being as hard as sapphire and as soft as calm ocean waves. What was frightening was the depth of the ocean you saw. It was like staring into an abyss of torment. Red-ringed and with whisky on his breath, it didn’t take a genius to realise Leon had been crying and was in fairly bad shape. Hair soaked and plastered to his forehead, he stared at you through those horribly complex eyes, his mouth half open like he wanted to say something but couldn’t force the words out. He was pale, breaths even but heavy, like he had to physically remind himself to huff out each one.

Wordlessly, you took him by the hand. His skin was freezing to the touch and you guessed the faithful jacket had done little to keep the bitter cold from seeping into his exposed skin. Your theory was proven right when his cheeks were just as cold to the touch.

“I…” you thought he might say more but it was like watching a caveman learn to talk. There were only sounds, no words. He was usually very skilful with his tongue but tonight those talents were nowhere to be found. Pushing his jacket from his shoulders you hung it to dry over the back of your sofa, hoping the radiator would do its job and leave it toasty for him when he inevitably put it on to leave you again. You ignored the stinging in your chest at the thought. Leon didn’t need you to be petty right now. Truthfully, you were frightened. Leon’s carefully constructed composure had been shattered by something and you didn’t think you wanted to know what was strong enough to shatter this man’s rock hard exterior and cut him so deeply. He stood dumbly in your hallway, and you gently pushed him to the edge of the sofa to take off his shoes so they wouldn’t traipse water into your home.

“Shhh Leon, just come with me.” You coaxed him back onto socked feet, leading him down the hall to your bathroom.

“No…no Y/N I, I don’t…” he swallowed.

“Do you trust me Leon?” you asked him, keeping your voice gentle like you were cajoling a wild animal into eating from your palm. Leon nodded without question and you smiled slightly. “Then just follow for me now.” You kicked open your door and led him to the edge of the tub, grabbing a towel from the shelving units there and placing it on the sink.

“What are you doing?” he could barely speak above a whisper, looking confused and upset and lost all at once.

“I’m going to run you a nice hot bath before you catch your death. I don’t know how long you were in the rain for Leon but you’re frozen to the bone.” You said calmly, putting the plug in the tub and turning on the tap for the hot water. Leon didn’t answer, merely watched you with the eyes of a man so lost in trauma he couldn’t find his way back to the surface world and make sense of the happenings around him. While you waited for the water to turn steamy, you rubbed at his hair with the towel in your hand to dry it. You knew something was incredibly wrong when he let you mess it up like that. There were very few instances you were allowed to touch his hair and you had to always, always comb it back into place or suffer the consequences. Occasionally, you took a break to fill the tub with some of your prized bath oils. Lavender, camomile, jasmine, all your favourite scents from a beautiful kit a colleague had bought you as part of secret Santa last year.

He didn’t comment as the room filled with intoxicating, relaxing scents, nor when you checked the temperature again and told him he could get in when he was ready. He held the towel in both hands, staring at the cotton as if it might hold some answers.

“Thank you.” He mumbled. You nodded once.

“Have you eaten anything yet?” you asked him. He nodded once, but he didn’t meet your gaze. He was lying you were sure. “Okay. Take as long as you need in here, I’ll be about when you feel ready to see me alright?” you promised, leaning up to kiss his cheek softly. Your lips lingered a little too long, but Leon didn’t move away. He closed his eyes as if the contact was all he had wanted and more. As the door closed behind you you heard the soft, muffled sob he tried so hard to bury in the towel, and your heart broke a little more. Something had shattered Leon S. Kennedy and it didn’t sit well with you at all to see him this vulnerable. He needed the space right now to get his mind back in order but once he did, when he was ready to face you, you weren’t sure you’d get an explanation from him. He’d shut down every time you’d ever asked for one before.

He’d woken screaming one night, lashing out so violently that if you had been sat upright there’d have been no way to avoid his fist and he’d have knocked you out cold. When you tried to ask what was wrong, he’d simply snapped at you to leave him be and left your apartment so fast there could have been a fire under his ass. So, what did you do? Did you just not even try? He hadn’t made a move on you, had specifically said no when he saw you heading in the direction of the bedroom. But if he wasn’t here for sex what was he here for? It only added to your anxiety that you really had no clue what he wanted if it wasn’t your body he’d come for, and though part of you thought that should make you angry, another part of you hoped that that meant it was something more that he was after this time. The kind of more you wanted.

No. You had to try for him. You couldn’t let him go on like this. He didn’t have to fight the war in his head alone, not when you were here. At least, if he wanted to go it alone, he could have someone stable waiting with a safety net if he stumbled. For now you’d let him linger and soak in the tub, and you’d make the most out of the ingredients you had in the fridge. If he stayed, he could eat it off a plate. If he didn’t…well, you’d make some in a container in case. Pasta bake had always been your father’s speciality and it had been your favourite as a child, was still your comfort food now. Chicken and bacon sizzled, pasta boiled, and you grated the cheese to the rhythm of your favourite song playing softly on the radio while the milk and butter warmed on the stove. You snagged a piece of bacon from the wok and let the salty flavour burn your tongue.

With your masterpiece constructed and more cheese grated on top, you slid the dish into the oven for it to crisp up and set your timer, setting about washing the utensils next. It kept your hands busy, kept your mind from wandering too much, but even the sudsy water couldn’t quite keep your mind from ticking over. Why had Leon come here in the pouring rain? What had spooked him so badly he’d thought, in his less than coherent state, that he needed to be here in your apartment? Did the fact he’d come to you mean anything at all or did he just happen to be nearby? You put the saucepan a little harder than necessary into the rack when it slipped from your hands, jumping and cursing to yourself at the loud clang it had made.

“Y/N!” Leon almost roared your name in pure, abject terror. Eyes wide you rushed for the bathroom, hands still soapy and dripping water. He was already out of the bathtub, naked and scrambling through his jacket until he came up with a gun of all things, aimed right at you as you burst through the door. A shriek escaped you and you immediately dropped to the floor, hands above your head.

“Leon it’s me!” you begged. Harsh breathing filled the room.

“Where is it?” he demanded. You peeked up at him from below your arms, lowering them slowly. He was half-crouched, eyes wild and fixated on the door that led back to your room. He offered you a hand. “Come on, get up and get behind me, where is it?” he repeated the question more firmly now.

“Where’s what? Leon I – there’s only us here. I just dropped a saucepan.” You breathed. His expression faltered, confusion flooding his features first , then guilt, and finally grief. His eyes closed and he inhaled deeply, held it, exhaled slowly. He lowered his gun after a few more deep breaths.

“I’m sorry.” He said, looking a little like a kicked puppy. You shook your head, slowly pushing to your feet so as not to startle him. His skin was tinged pink, little suds clinging to the ends of his hair. The timer went off in the kitchen and Leon flinched again, hand tensing around the gun. You soothingly placed your hand on his arm.

“It’s just the timer. We’re the only people here Leon, nothing’s going to hurt us. How’s about you dry off and come have something to eat?” you suggested. He blanched at the mention of food and you frowned. “You don’t have to eat everything, just a little bit, you look really pale.” You reached for the towel and held it out to him until he reluctantly nodded and wrapped it around his waist. You left the door slightly ajar and headed for the kitchen to switch off the damn timer. He was so jumpy, so eager to jump to your defence. You plated up a small portion, not wanting to put him off with a large one. You didn’t feel particularly hungry yourself but you’d had a proper meal earlier in the evening, a cup of tea would suffice, camomile and honey would soothe your nerves. Leon had a liking for peppermint you knew. Maybe if he was nauseous that would help him eat? Tea and pasta bake served you sat opposite his place, one hand wrapped around the handle of your mug and the other pulled up to your mouth, your teeth nibbling the side of your nail.

“You’ll make your thumb sore.” He lingered in the doorway like he wasn’t sure if he should sit down or run away. You dropped your hand and placed a more welcoming smile on your lips, nodding to the plate.

“Chicken and bacon pasta bake. It’s good.” You invited. Hesitantly, Leon shuffled to the chair and sat down. You didn’t push him to talk. Months of being with Leon had assured you that pushing would only clam him up further, and you wanted to pry him open tonight. With a sinking feeling, you realised it might be the last night you ever saw him. He’d let himself be extremely vulnerable to you already and you weren’t the type of person to see this kind of trauma and let it go unchecked. You’d want to check in on him, you’d want to help him feel better, and Leon didn’t appreciate the questions you’d have to ask to get the kind of help he needed right. He sighed slightly, picking up the fork and taking a small bite. He looked physically sick for the first few mouthfuls, and you made an effort to distract him with small talk about the weather, your day and all its mundane happenings.

He seemed enraptured by your very voice, soaking in every syllable that crossed your lips and mindlessly working his arm and mouth to clear the plate and drain the mug in front of him.

“Can I have a bit more? It’s really good.” He surprised you with his request but you obliged him, spooning some more on his plate.

“If you’re that partial to it you can take some home to.” You said simply. He nodded once, clearing the second portion with ease and looking much better for it. The colour had returned to his cheeks and he looked a little more put together than before. You settled back in your chair, watched him clean his plate and put it in the drying rack. It was a courtesy you’d never have asked for but were grateful for nonetheless. He didn’t turn around though, keeping his back to you and tightening his grip on the countertop.


	2. Hold Me Tighter and Don't Let Go

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ****SMUT AHEAD*****  
In which Leon opens a door he's kept locked for too long, and the reader learns his actions speak louder than his words.

“I know you were there this morning. I was going to say hi then Ian caught me first.” His voice was quiet, and you guessed it was taking a lot to hold onto the composure he’d only just regained. You sipped at your tea, nodding slowly.

“I noticed. He said something about academy days, you trained together?” you guessed. Leon gave a terse nod, shoulders tense. You got up and moved in behind him, gently placing your hands on his back and sliding up to his shoulders. Leon almost flinched from your touch, then leaned back into it and let you rub at the knots in his shoulders. You could feel so many you were sure he was breaking world records for the world’s most highly strung man. “Did he say something to you?” you prodded, careful not to tickle the sleeping dragon. Leon swallowed.

“Everything.” He croaked, “Everything he said hurt more than I ever thought it would.” You frowned. From the bits of conversation you had heard Ian had merely told Leon about what a great vacation he was having in the big city (the annual family vacation his daughters had insisted on taking) and boasted about his perfect small town wedding and the house he’d almost paid off. That had hurt him? Leon seemed to sense your confusion and risked looking back at your through the reflection in the glass windowpane. His face was creased with grief.

“Did I miss something?” you asked finally, hoping it would get him talking.

“Eight months of your life.” He muttered, head dropping again till his chin touched his chest. Your frown deepened. Eight months of your life? The eight months you’d spent on a casual basis with him? Did he think you regretted it? Had Ian asked if he was seeing anyone and the comparison between having a pretty wife and willing whore upset him that much? Was that what he thought of you now? You pulled back, the thought had burrowed into your consciousness and was carving an aching path right through your chest and into your heart at lightning speed. Your head spun a little bit.

“Leon…what do you mean?” your voice was cautious, wary of the answer. He had the power to make or break you here. Leon unconsciously tightened and relaxed his grip on the sink again and again, the metal actually creaking under his strong grip. Those hands could do a lot of damage if they wanted but never once had they hurt you.

“You deserve more than I give you, so much more.” He said finally, turning to look at you properly. He was taller than you were, staring you down with such intense blue eyes. They’d closed off again, and you had a horrible feeling that this was his attempt at saying goodbye. You shook your head slowly and it only seemed to enrage him.

“Leon don’t-“

“Don’t tell you the truth?” he demanded, stepping into your personal space with a glare so cold hell might have froze over at the mere sight of it. “Everything Ian told me today is the life you should be living! You deserve a loving husband, someone who works a 9-5 and comes back to you for more than your body! You deserve a constant, endless supply of love. You deserve flowers and kisses in the morning and the kids who draw you pictures at school. You deserve a life, Y/N, and here I am selfishly holding you back like I have any right to claim you as mine when all I do is use you!” his words struck hard and hurt more than you could say.

Use you? Was that really all it was to him? Did he not even consider you a friend at the very least? He said hello to you in public though! Had a smile for you and a nod of greeting when you passed each other in the street and couldn’t stop. He’d strike up conversations and even helped you bring your groceries up once when the lift in your block had broken down merely because he’d been in the area and seen you needed the help. He may not have loved you like you loved him, but you were sure he had cared on some level. Then your mind stopped working for a moment, because it was back. That flash of pain he’d neatly tucked away behind hard blue eyes flashed through and you wondered if maybe, just maybe, this conversation was designed to hurt you so you’d hurt him to. Logically, you knew it was possible, but emotion was so much stronger than logic, and it bled through the cracks of the dam you tried to build to hold it back until a few tears leaked out of your eyes.

“So I’m just something to use now?” you asked, voice cracking slightly. Leon faltered.

“No. No I didn’t mean it like that.” He denied.

“Then how did you mean it Leon because I know what I heard!” you snapped, forcibly wiping your tears away and stepping back to try and gather some control over yourself. It didn’t work. If Leon wanted to hurt you today, if he wanted to push you away then so be it. You’d let the flood loose and build a whole goddamn river between you that was too deep and too wide for him to swim back across.

“Y/N-“

“Maybe you’re right Leon. Maybe all you do is use me. Look at all this! I know what casual sex is and I’ve had plenty of it but you…you get more hospitality than most. Is that why you came here? You knee you could use me to feel better again and just leave after?” You took another step back when he tried to come towards you. That façade of his was breaking again and the grief seeping through the cracks was almost enough to make you back down, but you refused. He wasn’t going to win this time. He wasn’t going to get his way without you giving him your two cents first.

“I didn’t mean it like that!” he protested.

“You come in here and you use my body any which way you like but when I try to make any kind of connection with you beyond that you shut me out! I have given you every part of me and you can’t even do me the courtesy of pretending you cared about me at all? What was I to you Leon? A toy?” you cried, running a hand through your hair and feeling utterly frazzled and betrayed. You tried to get away again but Leon was quicker, catching you by the arms and forcing you against the wall.

“You have always been a friend…but all my friends end up dead.” His voice wavered, the agony in his eyes clear.

“Dead?” you whispered, eyes wider now. “Leon what the hell are you doing for the government that gets people killed?” you breathed, now more shocked than anything else. Was he at risk of dying to? Every time he showed up out of the blue, had he nearly taken a fatal blow and come straight home to you? Leon swallowed.

“Raccoon city wasn’t just a gas line explosion.” He croaked, “It was an outbreak, one of the first acts of bio-terrorism in the war against companies like Umbrella.” His words stunned you to silence and with wide eyes, you watched him sag back into the chair you had vacated, burying his head in his hands and taking in a harsh breath through his nose. He sat and told you everything, and you slowly made your way to sit opposite him, appalled by it all. Leon had to move for some parts, pacing and shaking out his hands when the trauma was too much, but slowly he told you all about his first and only day as a police officer. He disclosed the details the public never got to know about the G-Virus and the Birkin family. He let you in on the horrors he’d experienced in the police department, from having to shoot Lieutenant Branagh to pulling half of a would be colleague out from underneath shutters he just hadn’t been able to open in time.

You shuddered at the obvious anxiety the mere mention of the stalking tyrant gave him, and angrily declared Ada Wong the scarlet bitch when he told you of her betrayal. You were stunned as he went on to detail other mission’s he’d completed. He’d saved the President’s daughter and nearly been infected by some parasite in the process, found Ada was actually alive and well but still playing cat and mouse with him and actually shot President Benford himself when the C-Virus had hit Tall Oaks. He’d been there in China, when the city of Tatchi went to ruin. He’d been through so much, and when he fell silent you didn’t know what you were supposed to say to fill the gap left behind.

“Leon.” His name was all could manage, a simple but strangled sound. Leon stared at you with tortured eyes.

“I could never let you in because I could never forgive myself if it put you in danger. There’re so many people out there ready to utilise viruses for their own ends. You could easily be a victim or someone’s leverage, or I might just not come back. I can’t stop fighting this war Y/N, but I have to stop coming back to you before we hurt ourselves any worse. I want what Ian has so badly, but I forfeited all that when I signed up with the F.O.S. I won’t let you lose your chance at it to.” Leon was probably speaking sense in his own mind but to you…you’d never heard such bullshit in all your life.

“When you signed up, was there a clause that said you couldn’t have what Ian has?” you asked. Leon blinked, looking confused.

“What? I – no, plenty of agents have families but-“

“And after every mission have you come here to me?” you cut him off, eyes sharp and voice even sharper. Leon nodded once, looking apologetic almost as your hands began to tremble. “Can you look me in the eyes and tell me that you didn’t keep coming here because you feel something for me?” it was going to be the final nail in the coffin either way. If he said yes, he had no leg to stand on, but if he said no….he’d get what he wanted and could walk away. You almost held your breath, hiding your hands beneath the table so he wouldn’t see the tremors in your fingers. You wanted him to say yes so badly. Any sort of validation of your feelings would be better than nothing but you weren’t sure you’d get it. Why would Leon tell you all of this? Did he want you to fight him on it? Was this his round about way of trying to confess something or was he really just trying to cut you loose?

“I kept coming back, because in a world where I watched people get torn apart and families be destroyed, you were the one constant bit of good I could count on to be in the same place every time.” He said softly. You swallowed. It sounded an awful lot like the confession you wanted was hidden in those words somewhere, and it was good enough to get you moving until you were stood in front of him. He tried to turn his head from your hand, but you caught his face between your palms and forced him to look at you.

“I love you.” You said. Leon stared up at you, so much pain in those eyes.

“I can’t love you back.” He said, hands reaching for your wrists. You refused to be swayed.

“I love you.” You repeated, more forceful now. Leon looked like you had stabbed him.

“I can’t.” he repeated, voice splintered in pain.

“I. Love. You.” You stepped between his legs, staring him down with determined eyes. He’d get the message if it killed him, and judging from the look on his face you might have just twisted the knife in the right direction.

“I want to love you.” He closed his eyes, words desperate and helpless.

“It’s as easy as breathing Leon, you just have to let go of that fear.” You whispered, leaning closer. Your lips were a hairs breadth away from his and oh – how badly you wanted to kiss him. You wanted more than anything to taste him on your tongue and feel his hands roam your skin, but he wasn’t ready. This brave man was crumbling but not yet broken. You didn’t want to break him but if you didn’t shed him off this rigid coating you’d never be able to rebuild something better in it’s place.

“I can’t.” he tightened his grip on your wrists, “I can’t stop being afraid of losing you.”

“Then stop pushing me away.” You answered firmly, “Leon I have been here after every mission and I will be here after a thousand more if you only give me a reason to stay.” Leon opened his eyes, desperate blue meeting needy y/e/c. You had to know, you had to have an answer, you had to be certain. His hands flashed from your wrists to your hips, dragging you in closer as he surged upward to catch your mouth with his. A surprised gasp escaped your lips. For all the harsh flurry of movement that had got you here, the kiss itself was softer than a rose petal on your skin, slow and savoured and deep. You huffed, struggling to catch your breath in between each eternal slice of heaven. His hands were just as slow, roaming over your waist and squeezing the parts of you he loved the most in their casual exploration. His palms left lava in their wake.

“Back.” He murmured. He gave you not time to figure it out but you quickly caught on, stepping back and trusting him not to let you fall until you were pushed against the countertop, the edge digging into the small of your back as he pressed himself firmly against you, one arm around your waist and the other tangled in your hair. He pulled your head to the side, breaking from you to ghost his mouth across your throat. More heat. It rushed like fire through your veins as he pushed a thigh between your own, letting not a centimetre of space get between you as he worked a dark mark into your collar bone. A soft whine escaped you when he rolled his hips, keeping your firmly pressed together so you were forced to move with him. He pulled back and let you bring your head upright, soothing the sting in your scalp with a soft stroke of his palm over the back of your head, his hand resting at the back of your neck as he stared down at you and continued to move his hips.

Your breath mingled with his, lips fractions away from his own, but the spell he’d cast was so blinding you didn’t dare break eye contact with him now. It was so erotic, so sensual. Then he granted your silent wish and kissed you again, tongue pushing deep into your mouth before you could prepare yourself for it and curling around your own in an invitation to play that you quickly accepted it. His hand slipped back around your hip, down your thigh and up in between them as he made room for his hand to cup your sex. He began to grind the heel of his hand against you, making you gasp a little and automatically press into him.

“Leon…”you moaned, skin flushed and desire sweeping through you. It wasn’t fair. It had been a serious conversation but he’d wiped any coherent thought from your head when his fingers traced the edge of your pyjama shorts, no dangerously high and bunched up at your groin.

“May I?” he asked. You didn’t answer verbally, you weren’t sure you could, so you settled for a breathless hum of approval and took his wrist to guide his hand into your shorts. He wasted no time once he was past the fabric barrier, teasingly tracing your shape to spread what slickness he’d already created. This man knew how to ruin you and frequently did, but this was something else. He had never touched you like this before. Foreplay was always taken seriously with Leon, he was an incredibly considerate lover in that department, but this was something else entirely. He took his time teasing you, swollen lips swallowing every sigh and moan he coaxed from you with a single swirling finger that teasingly dipped in and out before it was joined by a companion. With his fingers busy curling and scissoring, he let his lips move across your jaw again. You clutched the edge of the countertop behind you when he curled his fingers just right.

“Oh.” You breathed, eyes fluttering closed. The sensations were divine and only spreading that glorious, nerve tingling feeling through the pit of your stomach, expanding it slowly. Leon was intently focused, like a master craftsman taking pride in his work. You jolted when his thumb finally joined the team, rubbing slow circles in time with the way his fingers moved inside of you. One hand jumped to his shoulder and you gasped, pressing your hips down desperately to feel his thumb press more firmly, his fingers push more deeply.

“Ride away.” He invited, voice a sinfully low, seductive hum against the shell of your ear. You bit your lip, whining pitifully. How could he not see what he did to you? How could he ever consider the fact that maybe you didn’t want to fight for this? Leon knew your body better than anyone, knew most of your personal tics and habits to. Leon knew you in so many ways that other people didn’t. You wanted this, you needed it, craved it…and you needed more. He didn’t need to ask. Leon had always read your body like it was an open book and he knew exactly when he needed to ramp up his game and when to bring it back down a touch. His thumb sped up and he curled his fingers tighter against that spot he’d discovered very early on in your relationship. It had been remarkable to you. Previous partners had taken so long to get you off and learn what made you tick but Leon had you sussed by the second encounter and used it to his full advantage every meeting since.

“Leon please!” you whimpered, head tilting back as you struggled to keep your grip on reality. He was turning the crank, coiling the knot in your gut tighter and tighter.

“Tighten your grip.” He warned, ever concerned about your safety. Shower sex with him had been fun the first time. He’d almost killed the mood with his serious suggestion that a bath would be easier as you wouldn’t have to stand and risk injury. You’d quickly changed his mind. Now, you didn’t bother to question him, clamping your fingers on his shoulder and the edge of the countertop. His free hand swooped from where it had been resting on your breast, teasingly flicking over your hardened nipples occasionally, and swept your leg up to hitch it over his hip. It opened you up to him beautifully and he leaned a little more of his body weight against you, knowing you liked to feel close when you were intimate with anyone. It was an adjustment he had made for you long ago and now sex felt wrong to him if he couldn’t feel his partners skin radiating heat into his own.

The coil snapped, your back arched, and your hips bucked helplessly against skilfully working fingers as you came undone to his very touch. You cried out, mind reeling as you writhed in his grip, and only when Leon let you down did you manage to lift your head and seek out his lips, hungry for more of his attention. With one leg already around him he wasted no time in bringing up the other, carrying you with ease towards your room and pressing hungry, passionate kisses to your lips as he went. He let you help him undress as you stripped each other down, lingering caresses and carefully probing tongues being the extent of your roughness. It was unusual, you thought in the back of your lust fuelled mind, that Leon was being so gentle. Your encounters were usually a little more frantic, a little more pin you down and leave welts and bites behind kind of rough, but it didn’t seem to be Leon’s aim tonight.

In fact, he barely let you touch him at all. Only when you begged to give him some attention did he reluctantly let you stroke his already leaking length for a few minutes, but even that was short lived. Caged in his arms, he held you close in an intimate missionary embrace as he eased into you. He didn’t need to be gentle, you were already more than ready for him, and yet it crossed your mind suddenly that maybe he didn’t want to rush this. Leon rarely held back on you and you could see on the few times you had requested it how hard it had been for him to do so. Looking up at him now, playing with the hair at the nape of his neck as he steadily rolled his hips into yours in that slow, careful rhythm lovers only achieved in cliché rom-coms, it dawned on you he really was having no trouble holding back this time. Leon _wanted_ this to be slow, to be gentle. Leon was carefully ensuring each thrust was still the head-spinning, firm kind you loved, but they were drawn out for maximum effectiveness, maximum communication.

Every lingering kiss, every soft sigh of your name from his lips, every careful push and pull of his hips…

Leon S. Kennedy was making love to you.

This wasn’t a quick fuck to feel better, or a rushed encounter because he only had a few hours before a mission, but he wanted to see you before he left to shake out the cobwebs. Leon was making love to you because he couldn’t tell you what he was feeling, but he knew how to show it you. He didn’t strike you as the type to do this often. This was his declaration, his confirmation that your feelings were valid, returned. Leon loved you and wanted you to know it, and the thought alone was enough to bring you that much closer to your end. Pulling him as close as you could, you dug your heels into the tops of his thighs to keep him deep within you. He groaned as you fluttered about him, s0 close to peaking again.

“I love you Leon.” You whispered breathlessly, tugging at his ear lobe with your teeth. Leon hissed. It was a weakness of his you loved to exploit.

“Me to.” He breathed, burying his face in the crook of your neck and giving you a particularly firm thrust that made him grunt, “So close…”

“Hmmm, nearly.” You whimpered, eyes closing as you held tight to him. He was spilling into you on the next thrust, filling you with warmth and as much of his physical affection as he could spare as his hand reached between you and rubbed at your clit, furiously determined to get you off with him. It didn’t take much, and you clamped down to milk the rest of his orgasm from him as he sloppily kept his hips moving to pull you through yours.

“Y/N! God!” he groaned, tightly gripping your hip to keep you pinned together as he collapsed. Panting for air, you deftly wrapped your arms around him and stroked his hair, trying to catch your breath after the intense feelings he’d stirred up. You could have happily stayed feeling his warm weight on you for a lifetime more, but ever conscious of your comfort Leon pushed himself up and gave a last, weak thrust to send a thrill through you before he pulled out entirely and fell onto his back. His head rolled to the right, eyes searching your face as you watched him. He closed his eyes when you reached out to trace your fingertips along his strong jawline.

“If you think I’m letting you go after that, you’ve got to be a complete idiot.” You said softly. Leon smiled, opening his eyes to search your face for a moment. That uncertainty still lingered in his eyes, but the warmth in them was so welcome you didn’t have it in you to argue anymore with him tonight.

“Can I show you something?” he asked you. You regarded him curiously, nodding your head. Leon rolled over, settled himself half draped over you with a leg kicked over between your own and head nestled into the crook of your neck. He made sure you had an arm wrapped around his torso, and a hand tenderly placed on the back of his head before you felt his lashes flutter against your skin when he closed his eyes once more.

“You’re a cuddler?” you teased. Leon merely hummed.

“This is how I like to be held…don’t let me go.” His sleepy request made your heart melt and you swallowed, feeling tears prick the corners of your eyes. Here he was, this big tough zombie hunter of all things, and he just wanted to be held for a while longer by you. Letting your head lean atop his own, you nodded and closed your eyes.

“I don’t plan on letting you go ever again.”


End file.
